


Training Day

by droid_girl



Series: Roads Untravelled [4]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-25 21:17:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12044451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/droid_girl/pseuds/droid_girl
Summary: One shot smut in "Roads Untravelled" AU, set between "Familial Bonds" and "In Dark Places".Can be read as a stand-alone or completely ignored.Apologies in advance.





	Training Day

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize to people who have been liking this series so far. But I wrote something for fun while writing the rest of the story and just couldn't resist.

To say that he had never been interested in the matters of women’s clothing would be a severe understatement. Yes, he had once enjoyed the way different silks and satins accentuated Cersei’s figure. And absolutely, he found the ritual of peeling away the many layers that covered Sansa infinitely fascinating. At the end of it however, Jaime simply did not care for the many intricacies of clothing which others obsessed over.

So when Sansa had summoned him to her chambers to get his opinion on the new breeches she had asked for, Jaime had huffed in impatience and rolled his eyes at the wench. 

Brienne had laughed at him, and reminded him why that damned article of clothing was so important. If their Queen could sacrifice her own dignity, perhaps the noblemen and women might finally see some sense with regards to the attire of the women fighters.

As he walked into the room, Jaime closed the door and perched on the edge of Sansa’s desk with a loud, put-upon sigh. 

“This is stupid. I look hideous.” Sansa’s voice floated out to him from somewhere in the depths of her chambers.

“Let’s just get this over with. You present yourself to the Houses and we can all move on with our lives.” Jaime drawled.

Sansa stepped into view, and suddenly, the man found himself quite the opposite of bored.

Supple leather hugged at the woman’s hips and thighs in a way that caused his thoughts to grind to an utter halt. When they resumed, his thoughts were on a completely different bent. 

_She will never wear those breeches in front of another man,_ he thought fiercely, as he stalked towards her. It already chafed at Jaime each time that squire from the Eyrie, Harrold Somethingorother, raked his leering gaze over the Queen’s body. 

Once the Lords got a good look at how the soft leather perfectly outlined that pert arse of hers, Jaime would probably have to murder just about every nobleman in the North for the crime of wanting their Queen.

“Well?” Sansa looked at him askance. His intimate perusal of her form as he circled her was clearly unnerving her.

_Good._

“Do you trust me?” he asked, voice dipping to a low treble as he stepped behind her, so close his breath brushed at the fine hairs at the nape of her neck.

“What?” Sansa asked in irritation. “Jaime, what are you…”  
“I asked, do you trust me?” he repeated, his golden hand creeping to her right hip, preventing her from turning to face him. Her breath caught. 

“Y…yes of course,” she replied softly. 

“That’s good.” he brushed the fingers of his left hand against the bare skin of her neck. “Every soldier must trust his commander, otherwise, everything just…falls apart.” 

He moved to face her.

“Feet apart.” he growled. “Hands to your side,” 

“Jaime…” 

“You will address me as Ser.” he said sternly, watching as her pupils dilated. His cock was beginning to strain within _his_ breeches, he realized. Gently, he ran a lazy hand over her covered inner thighs, and watched as she squirmed under his touch, especially when he lingered close to her core. Leaning in close, his voice like velvet steel, he murmured, “You will stay still.”

“Yes…ser.” she breathed, blue eyes never leaving his gaze. 

“You’re learning.” he smiled lazily, moving his hand to brush over the front of her tunic, travelling upwards from her flat stomach. “Such a good girl.”

“Thank you ser.” 

Gods, she was getting just as aroused as he was, judging from the flush that was travelling upwards of her neck.

Moving behind her once again, Jaime pushed her body against his, securing her with his right arm. Her bottom fit very nicely against his straining bulge, he thought. Experienced fingers pulled her tunic open with a swift tug. With her breasts bare, and her held immobile against him, he allowed his living hand to roam over her soft skin, pulling and pinching at will. Sansa’s head rolled back, as her jaw slackened.

“Do you like that?” he asked, nipping at her ear. His left hand resumed it’s path to the front of her breeches, inching its way further south, until he was rubbing at her clit through the warm and pliant material. 

“Yes ser I like that.” she panted softly. 

“Take off those damned things and resume your position.” he ordered. Hungrily, he watched as she complied with his commands, squirming her hips this way and that as she peeled off the breeches. The tunic continued to hang open at her shoulders, and when she would have made to shrug it off, he stilled her hands. Slowly, Sansa lowered her hands back to her sides and resumed her prior stance.

Without warning, Jaime fell to his knees before her. Grinning roguishly, he grasped at her slender thighs and moved his mouth onto her damp slit, laving his tongue over her slick sex over and over. Within minutes, his Queen had lost all semblance of control, her fingers fisting hard in his hair as she ground herself against his lips, moaning with wanton abundance.

“Eager little thing,” he murmured when he finally leaned back, allowing her a moment to collect herself. Slyly, his left hand reached up and dipped two fingers inside of her; he was rewarded by the shuddering of her entire body. Getting to his feet, he commanded, “Put your hands against the wall and keep your legs spread wide for me.”

Sansa complied with admirable swiftness. Watching as the woman spread herself before him, her sex glistening with need, Jaime released his cock from its increasingly tight confines.

“That’s a good girl…that’s my good girl,” he murmured as he eased himself into her slick channel.

“Thank you ser,” she gasped, her body arching almost impossibly.

“Gods you feel so good…” he growled as his left hand gripped hard on her hip. “You’re _mine_. Do you understand me? _Mine_.”

Bucking like a wild creature in answer to his thrusts, Sansa’s voice was ragged as she moaned his name over and over.

“Come,” he commanded through gritted teeth. 

Practically howling, Sansa did as she was bid.

With a cry of his own, Jaime pulled out his cock and spilled his seed on the warm, flushed skin of her back.

As they stood panting and exhausted, Sansa looked over her shoulder with a sweet smile. 

“I take it you like the breeches.”

The Lord Commander could not keep from laughing as he swept her up in a kiss.

***

“You surely cannot expect our women to run around dressed like that.” Barbrey Ryswell exclaimed in the Great Hall, staring in horror at Sansa. “It’s indecent.”

“My Lady, are you implying that the Queen herself is indecent?” Brienne asked blandly. 

“No of course not, it’s just that…” the noblewoman sputtered. No one else in the Great Hall came to her rescue.

“Lady Ryswell, I can appreciate your concerns, but as I’m sure you’re aware, we live in difficult times.” Sansa said coldly, her blue eyes piercing every last one of her subjects. “While I’m glad we are finally in agreement that men and women alike need to be a part of the strategy to protect the North, my goal now is to ensure that everyone has the chance to fight effectively.”

“And _breeches_ are how women will become better fighters is it?” 

It was that damned squire again. Jaime’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Even now, the boy had the gall to openly stare at the Queen’s leather clad legs in frank and open lust.

“Forgive me ser, I don’t know your name. But if you have any doubts, I would suggest you don a dress before your next sparring session. You can even borrow one of my old dresses, seeing as we’re of about the same stature. Then we’ll see how you fare against the Lady Brienne in a fight.” Sansa replied without so much as a smile to soften her words. 

Jaime found his irritation dissipating. Instead, he found that he could not stop grinning in satisfaction as the squire cowered under the Queen’s scrutiny. The rest of the hall tittered nervously.

“I am sorry I have had to resort to cheap tricks to make a point.” Sansa continued, turning to leave the hall and effectively dismissing everyone. “But I expect this argument to be over.”

Staring at her disappearing form appreciatively, Jaime sauntered away to his own duties, suddenly feeling much lighter on his feet than he did only hours earlier.


End file.
